The Magi 4: A New Hope
by Deliverer
Summary: What is Poopatine's greatest weakness? Kyle and Sigmund. What would break him? For them to be ripped away from him. Lunch Lady Cram has a plan. Her vendetta with the Janitor has reached its crest, and she'll be sure the man suffers. Kyle and Sigmund aren't to be underestimated, though. A curse gone wrong and they're thrust into another dimention. Oops. Now how do they fix this?
1. This Means War

_**Fanboy And Chum Chum: A New Hope**_

(A/N: I'm sorry that it's been so long. I've been uncertain about posting this story though. There's a lot of major plot twists you probably didn't see coming, even though I've been hinting at them all through this series. I'm not great at dropping hints. And there's controversial subject matter touched on too, and slightly edgy scenes, so I was really reluctant about posting it. Let's just say that when I label a story T, I mean T. It's still a lot of humor, though, reminiscent of the cartoon, which I really wish had more episodes on YouTube, if only so I could see Hex Games and other episodes with Poopatine or Sigmund in them. Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy. Reviews are appreciated, especially if posted for each chapter so I have some feedback to go off of.)

This Means War

"Oh Muffly Wuffly, you know how to butter up a girl," Lunch Lady Cram sang to the teacher. Mufflin smiled at her, a perfect picture of innocence. Come on lady, show me the good stuff, he willed. "In fact, I have a surprise for you." Finally she gets to the point!

"Lunch Lady Cram, you didn't have to," he replied modestly, but his fingers were itching for whatever she had brought along.

"Oh but I do. How does strawberry shortcake sound?" she asked, revealing the actually decent meal. He licked his lips, eyes lighting up, but he couldn't seem too eager. She would think he was only flirting with her for the food, which he was.

"You didn't," he said in disbelief.

"Just for you," she sang, revealing his name written in whipped cream.

"Well, if you insist," he replied, reaching for it. He was never gladder than he was now that he'd discovered the way to decent meals instead of the glop she usually cooked.

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Just then the door burst open and Poopatine ranted, "That's it; I've had it with her! I can't _stand_ that pathetic excuse for a lunch lady. This marks the tenth time this _week_ she's purposely left a giant mess for me to clean. What is wrong with her, Hank?"

"Janitor Poopatine!" Lunch Lady Cram angrily shouted. Poopatine gasped, stiffening and looking at her in shock. What was she doing in Mufflin's classroom?!

"Oh, Lunch Lady Cram, what an, err, unexpected surprise," he replied quickly, grinning innocently.

"Save it Poopy!" she shot furiously.

He frowned at her, annoyed. "It's Poopatine to you!" he yelled.

"Hanky, will you let him talk to me that way?" she demanded, turning to Mufflin.

"Well, I…" he began, flustered and taken off guard.

"Hanky? Oh really?" Poopatine incredulously asked.

"Hanky panky, _do_ something about him!" she demanded.

"Well I…" Mufflin began.

"You aren't doing anything! Fine, if that's the way you want to be, no shortcake for you," she haughtily and angrily, declared. She grabbed the dessert from his hands and walked towards the door.

"After you," Poopatine sang, opening the door for her and smirking condescendingly. She marched out harrumphing, nose held high in the air.

"Fine then, I won't disturb you two any longer," she bit.

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Poopatine slammed the door behind her and angrily Mufflin yelled, "What were you thinking, Russ? I was on the verge of getting a dessert fit for a king!"

"Oh shut it Hanky," Poopatine bit.

"Don't call me that," Mufflin said flatly.

"Anyway, as I was saying, do you know what she did this time?" Poopatine demanded.

"Please enlighten me," Mufflin dully replied, frowning at Poopatine. He was well aware, by now, of the recent vendetta Cram had against the janitor. He didn't know why it had developed, just that it had, and Poopatine was in the habit of ranting to _him_ now. It had been amusing at first, now it was getting on his nerves, but who was he to complain? It gave him leverage over the lunch lady. A few false sympathies and pretending to side with her, and he was in for good meals the whole day.

"She dumped the milk all over the fridge then poured flour on the floor. She left whatever the glop is she cooks all over the stove. Why, poor Brenda nearly shorted out trying to help clean it. That microwave deserved to be in the world record books for disgusting. What is her problem with me? What did _I_ ever do to _her_?" the janitor ranted.

"Beats me," Mufflin dully replied.

"And as for _you_…" Poopatine began. _Him_? Mufflin sat up straight, frowning. Oh boy, here it went. "Do you make it a point to get chummy with every lunch lady who walks through these school doors?"

"As a matter of fact, _yes_!" Mufflin shot. "That's what single men can _do_ when they have nothing to worry about and aren't obsessed with mechanical chairs named after their dead wives!"

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Poopatine blinked and looked blankly at Brenda. He frowned, turning back, and shot, "That's not the point!"

"Just drop it Russ, you cost me a good meal. Now I get to go hungry," Mufflin complained.

"Since you like her cooking so much, feel free to dig through my trash receptacle. I assure you, if anything it's an _improvement_ over her glop," Poopatine bit. Mufflin said nothing. The janitor was probably right. He was disturbed to realize he was actually thinking it over.

After a moment he replied, "I'll just call Lenny to bring me something from Frosty Mart."

"At least you _have_ that option," Poopatine replied. "I actually feel _sorry_ for those poor children in the cafeteria. At least I have the brains to pack Kyle and Sigmund's lunches for them. More than I can say for _other_ parents."

"Are you done yet?" Mufflin questioned.

Poopatine sighed then answered, "Fine, I'm done. I see I'm not getting sympathy from _you_."

"You're just jealous because I can flirt for my dinner," Mufflin said. "You have other commitments." Brenda booped, offended.

"There, there Brenda, he didn't mean it," Poopatine soothed. "Come on, let's go." She whistled in reply and Poopatine sat down, driving out of the classroom. Mufflin rolled his eyes. He supposed he could try the cafeteria before calling Lenny, just on the off chance he could make amends with the lunch lady.

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"Tell me you have an extra sandwich dude," Duke said to Sigmund.

"Make that two," Michael sang.

"Here, split it far all I care. Quvit complaining," Sigmund shot, annoyed. He gave one half of his sandwich to each of his friends then brought out the strawberries Poopatine had packed for him."

"Hey, _that's_ a good _idea_," Fanboy remarked.

"Yeah, Kyle, why don't you share your food with _your_ two best friends _too_, pretty please," Chum Chum begged.

Kyle looked from one to the other then sighed in annoyance, saying, "Oh very well, take them."

"Yay!" the two exclaimed, devouring the sandwich halves whole. Kyle scowled.

"How again did ve get stuck across ze table from _you_?" Sigmund asked, unimpressed and disgusted at his rival's near presence. Duke and Michael looked just as put out.

Kyle sighed, answering, "I'm no happier about it than _you_, Sigmund, but there was no room anywhere else."

"Yeah, besides, we're _great_ friends!" Fanboy exclaimed.

"Since when?" Duke asked.

"Since always," Chum Chum replied.

"Just beat it," Michael sang.

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"Clean up in the cafeteria, Poopatine. Oven's malfunctioning," Lunch Lady Cram's voice suddenly said over the school speaker system.

"Poop," Chum Chum chimed.

"Again? Isn't that, like, the sixth time this week your dad's been called in to clean or fix something in here?" Duke asked Sigmund and Kyle.

"Jawohl, I suppose," Sigmund boredly answered.

"Sounds like Lunch Lady Cram has something against Janitor Poopatine," Fanboy remarked.

"Poop! Well, he did try and destroy Yum Yum," Chum Chum said.

"Somehow I doubt the lunch lady would really care," Kyle remarked.

"Whatever. Point is how's he gonna come in _this_ time? He's bound to be out of epic entrances by _now_," Michael remarked.

As if in response, suddenly music filled the room from the speakers. The cafeteria's occupants heard marching. Everyone gasped and froze, looking over at the main doors. All at once they were thrown open by two mops! A procession of cleaning supplies followed and stood like guards. Poopatine strode towards the room, darkly smirking. Following him was a parade of 'armed' cleaning utensils in addition to the others. The broom walked next to him like a commander.

"You were saying?" Kyle asked. Michael barely squeaked.

"Who called for a janitor?" Poopatine asked authoritatively.

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"Poopatine, about time you got here!" Lunch Lady Cram suddenly called from the kitchen. Poopatine scowled and looked icily over at her. He snapped his fingers and instantly two mops marched passed him and to the lunch lady. She gasped as they seized her and dragged her away. "What are you doing? Release me!" she ordered. They stopped in front of Poopatine, and Lunch Lady Cram, for once, appeared terrified.

"Everything is going according to schedule, I assure you," Poopatine growled. "Now what's the problem?"

"Oven malfunction," Cram replied in a quieter tone than usual, slightly afraid. Poopatine grinned victoriously then marched passed her.

"Hey Sigmund, Kyle, why don't you talk your dad into bringing us something good from back there," Fanboy whispered to the table.

"As if he vould be bozhered," Sigmund replied.

"Come on dude, for once I agree with Fanboy," Duke said.

Sigmund sighed, saying, "Very vell, but do not expect results." He rose, saying, "Come Kyle."

Kyle harrumphed, annoyed at the order, but nonetheless rose, saying, "No, you _think_? Oh Sigmund the Stinker is just so brilliant. Everyone follows his whims."

Frowning icily, Sigmund smirked and replied, "Finally you are getting it." Kyle started and scowled at his enemy, unimpressed.

The two darted after Poopatine and came up beside him. He looked curiously from one to the other, then ahead, greeting, "Boys."

"Good day papa, um, what are the chances of getting something good for the beggars over there?" Kyle questioned, looking back at their table.

"None if _Cram_ gets her way, which she _won't_," Poopatine replied, walking into the kitchen and slamming the door behind him. The children watched him go towards the oven and open it up, peering inside. "Brenda, wrench," he ordered. He got no response and repeated, "Brenda, I'm waiting."

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Sigmund and Kyle exchanged looks then turned back to him. Sigmund poofed up a wrench and handed it to him. Poopatine blinked, looking at the two. Brenda wasn't in the room. That would figure. "Vhat?" Sigmund asked.

"Oh very well. Pliers," Poopatine relented, allowing the boys to help. Kyle poofed up a set of pliers and gave them over.

"Oven cleaner, this isn't a pretty picture," Poopatine directed. Sigmund gave it to him. "Electrical tape." The boys started and exchanged nervous looks. Nonetheless Kyle handed it over. "There. Now let's see if this works," Poopatine declared, coming out of the oven and sticking in the unbaked glop that Lunch Lady Cram had put to the side to sit.

He turned on the oven and the three peered curiously inside. "It's working!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Ve did it," Sigmund agreed as the two stood to converse away from the utility.

"Something doesn't seem right," Pooptine remarked. All at once he noticed something shorting out inside. He gasped. Oh this wasn't good. The oven was about to blow! "She sabotaged it!" he exclaimed suddenly. Quickly the children turned, surprised. He leapt up and yelled, "Boys, move!" The two screamed in terror and bolted with their father. The oven door flew open and Poopatine dove, knocking them to the ground and covering them with his body. The door sailed overhead, but they hardly noticed over the booming roar of the explosion.

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Lunch Lady Cram snickered evilly as the children in the cafeteria screamed and panicked when the blast hit and flames shot from the cafeteria window and out from under the doors. Even Mr. Mufflin looked horrified and shocked. Wait. Poopatine and the kids had been _in_ there! "Russ…" he said in denial and disbelief. No one could have survived that.

"Kyle, no!" Fanboy and Chum Chum exclaimed.

"Sigmund!" Duke and Michael called fearfully, leaping up.

Just then the door opened and Kyle and Sigmund staggered out, looking shell shocked. On seeing them, Lunch Lady Cram put of a sad face and approached them, 'gently' saying, "Oh boys, I'm so, so sorry for your loss. It's all my fault. I never should have called your daddy in to do the job. He just wasn't good enough. Let me offer my sympathies over your father's unfortunate and accidental demise," she quickly cooed.

"_Accident_?!" Kyle yelled, snapping out of his disbelief.

"Zat vas _sabotage_!" Sigmund backed up, furious.

"Luckily for her, it _didn't_ do the job," Poopatine furiously yelled from the doorframe. They all looked at him in disbelief, gasping. He was covered in glop and singed, but he was alive.

"Poopatine," she gasped in shock.

"Russ, you're _alive_," Mufflin said in surprise.

"Of course I am!" Poopatine yelled. He quickly got a hold of himself, though, and added in a cordial voice that instantly made everyone who heard it alarmed—after all, since when did Poopatine sound friendly?—"In fact, I regret to inform you, Cram, that your oven is done for. I know how difficult it is for you to make lunches for hundreds of brats, and all these poor starving children. I'm afraid I've failed you. In fact, let me make it up to you."

"Make it up to me?" she suspiciously asked.

"Children, lunch is on me!" Poopatine yelled to the students. All at once he whipped out a large turkey cooked to perfection. The class oohed and ahhed. "Food for everyone!" Poopatine called. "Oh cleaning army," he said, clapping his hands. Immediately they marched into the kitchen and began to bring out a feast fit for a king. Kyle and Sigmund gaped in awe. How had he done _that_ so fast? Then again, they supposed nothing was really much of a surprise in Galaxy Hills.

"Woo hoo, a feast!" Mufflin cheered, instantly sitting down and beginning to eat. The children cheered loudly, as did the staff in the cafeteria.

Poopatine smirked wickedly as they all began to chant, "Poop-a-tine, Poop-a-tine, Poop-a-tine, Poop-a-tine."

"So this is how my cafeteria dies. To thunderous applause," Cram bitterly said, sitting and sulking in annoyance.

"Indeed. And Cram, I've saved the best for _you_," he added, handing a perfectly laid out plate to the sitting and sulking lunch lady.

She hissed in horrified disgust at the excellence of the meal. With a scream she leapt up to the light and clung to it as if her life depended on it. "Fool, good meals to me are like water to a witch!" she shrieked. "You're trying to kill me!"

"Now Cram, don't be silly. Have the rest," Poopatine sang innocently, dumping all the leftovers beneath her.

"Hank, honey, you have to help me!" she called. Mr. Mufflin looked blankly at her then caught Poopatine's glare. He cringed under it, but this feast was only a once in a blue-moon thing. Her good food was something he could get _anytime_, unless he threw his leverage away.

With a sigh he rose, saying, "In the name of good food, I'm coming Crammy Whammy!" Instantly he raced over.

"How sickening," Poopatine nipped at him. Mufflin frowned and ignored him.

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Lunch Lady Cram stood behind the counter, watching the cafeteria clear out and glowering after the janitor and his two sons, laughing and teasing each other. She hated them all. She observed the trio thoughtfully. She'd never known the janitor to have a soft spot for anything or anyone besides that ridiculous chair, but here it was right in front of her. There was no doubt in her mind those boys meant a lot to him. Perhaps Poopatine had finally dropped his guard too much. In fact, she would dare say he loved those children more than anything he'd ever loved before. If she so chose to ruin his life completely, that's just where she'd start.

She started. Ruin his life? Why didn't she think of that _before_? Of course, it was so simple! If she could get those boys taken from him, oh it would be golden! Finally she would have beaten the undefeatable janitor. Yes, she would see those boys ripped from their father one way or another. The justice system could be used to her advantage in this instance. She chortled evilly. To the computer!

She scanned through the school files. Finally she found Sigmund and Kyle's records. Looking cautiously around, she opened them up and read through. As she read her frown deepened. What was this? N/A for both of them under parents/guardians. But how could that be unless… Her eyes lit up. Unless Poopatine wasn't really their father! No, don't get ahead of yourself Cram, he could very well be their father, but their files may not have been updated. Then again there was no proof anywhere that he was their sire. He lived with them, though. If he wasn't their dad… then technically it could be turned into a crime! The police, she could call the police! That would show him. Wait, better yet…

She typed some things down on the computer. Kyle's first school was Milkweed. Who had enrolled him in it? Finally she found two names, a man and a woman. Permission given to Kyle Bloodworth-Thomason to join Milkweed academy by parents. These two people had claimed to be Kyle's parents! She'd found something! And Sigmund? She dug deeper. The boy had been left at Milkweed by a woman when he was barely of school age. Who was this woman? She researched the name online and started. Deceased, murdered by a suspected stalker. Sigmund's mother, and she bet that was just who it was, had been murdered. Kyle's parents, however—if that was really who they were, which didn't seem likely to her—were still alive. This could work. Yes. With a little persuasion, perhaps they would return and take the boy home. After all, greed was a powerful motivator. She laughed evilly. Poopatine would soon know what true pain was! "Say goodbye to your little brats, Poopy, you'll never see them again," she declared, closing all the files and picking up a phonebook.


	2. Questions

_**Fanboy And Chum Chum: A New Hope**_

(A/N: Sorry for the wait. I was going to do daily updates but got distracted.)

Questions

Sigmund and Kyle put their ears to the Janitor's bedroom door, struggling to hear. He was talking to someone. "Who iz he speaking to?" Sigmund asked.

"Why, it sounds like Necronomicon and _Scrivener_ Elf," Kyle answered.

"Vhy?" Sigmund asked.

"I haven't a clue," Kyle replied. They tried to hear, but the voices were hushed. The conversation began to get urgent. They heard Poopatine's voice sounding fast, almost panicked, but he kept his tone low. "What do you suppose is the matter with father?" Kyle asked.

"I vish I knew," Sigmund answered.

"No!" they suddenly heard Poopatine yell. The two gasped, pulling back.

"But vhatevair it vas does not zound like zomesing he vanted to hear!" Sigmund exclaimed.

"Should we go in?" Kyle asked. Just then it got silent, though. They struggled to listen but only heard pages of a book turning. They exchanged nervous looks then entered.

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"Um, fazher," Sigmund said.

Poopatine, reading the Necronomicon distractedly, looked quickly up. Scrivener Elf nearly choked on the tea he was sipping and stared at them in alarm.

"Children!" the janitor exclaimed, gasping and nearly dropping the book.

"Are you quite all right papa?" Kyle asked.

"Who, me, all right? Of-of course I'm all right, why would you ask?" he replied, innocently grinning.

"Okay?" Kyle replied, more a question than agreement.

"Vell zen come out und vatch zis movie vith us. It iz far some project in Mr. Mufflin's class about ze Irish immigrants or somesing. Ve have popcorn und beverages," Sigmund said.

"Movie? Popcorn? Oh yes, of course," Poopatine stammered, climbing off the bed and following them, though his mind was whirling.

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The movie played on. It was sad, really. _Into The West_ he believed it was called. It almost had _him_ in tears, and he wasn't one to cry. The boys weren't so resilient, though. He looked down at them and instantly knew… It had touched close to home. Perhaps _too_ closely. Kyle was no longer looking at the screen, face buried in his knees as he shoulders shook with silent sobs. Sigmund still watched, but he never moved, and in the reflection of the screen Poopatine saw tears in his eyes. It wasn't the fantasy aspect, oh no, that was just no. The whole movie, in fact, was quite cheesy, but the rest of the story. The dead mother, the father overcome by sadness, fear, and mourning; who was never there, who was cold and aloof, who might as well have been dead _himself_. That was what was getting them all.

Finally the movie ended. The father threw a picture of the mother into the fire and watched, silently weeping, as it burned. The janitor immediately shut the television off, glad it was finished. Not a moment too soon either, Poopatine determined. Any longer and _he_ would have given in to tears _himself_. He wished he'd turned it off sooner, if only to stop the pain the children were feeling. He had never seen them like this. It hurt him, he was surprised to find. Since when did he start going soft? There was silence between the three, and Poopatine looked at the sleeping Necronomicon and Scrivener Elf forlornly. All they had claimed, all they had said, all he himself had come to suspect… Could it really be true? He shook his head. It didn't matter right now… but at the same time it very much mattered.

FBaCC

Poopatine was tucking the two boys in. The duo was sharing a room, presently, seeing as one of Kyle's ill-fated experiments had ended in his room being left in shambles. "Who vas your fazher, papa?" Sigmund questioned suddenly as Poopatine pulled the blankets up to the two boys' chins.

Poopatine looked sharply at him. After a long moment he replied, "A good man, excellent at… at controlling forces you two haven't even _begun_ to understand."

"What was he like?" Kyle questioned.

Poopatine was silent. After a moment he answered, "He was a fine father, but too forgiving for his own good. He was overly soft with his son… More than was safe for _either_ of them. Teenagers can be quite the handful. He was strict but never cruel. He was firm in discipline, but never laid a finger on me. He was more about the moral lesson and all that soft touch nonsense."

"Did you love him?" Kyle asked.

Poopatine was silent. After a moment he replied, "I did, but I didn't respect him the way I should have. I believed I could become better."

"_Did_ you?" Sigmund asked.

Again he was silent for a long time. Finally he answered, "Yes… There was _no_ comparison." The boys looked sharply at him, eyes wide in disbelief. Poopatine sighed, shaking his head, and continued, "He taught me everything I knew, everything _he_ knew, but I wasn't done yet. I wanted more. I got what I wanted. I always have and I always will. His apprentice and son became his traitor and his downfall."

"Vhat do you mean?" Sigmund pressed.

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Poopatine was done speaking of this to them. Instead of answering, he said, "Enough about me. What's done is done and there's no going back. Not anymore."

"I do not remembair mein fazher…" Sigmund remarked, thinking. "Or perhaps I do. He vas skilled in magic… I remembair admiring him greatly, vatching him perform for ze onlookers. I remember longing to do vhat _he_ could. I remember striving to be like him, power und all."

Poopatine looked out the window, emotions swirling in his eyes, and worry… and memories. "The father _I_ remember was wonderful. At least, as long as he believed I was his son," Kyle stated. Poopatine and Sigmund started, looking sharply at him. Kyle sighed then said, "I was a changeling. They thought I was their son, but their little boy had died of natural causes while they were away. The sitter couldn't have _that_ now, _could_ she…? Of course, with time my appearance changed. Let's just say it became obvious I wasn't."

"You do not remember your _family_?" Sigmund asked, surprised. He'd never known that about his rival.

"Not in the slightest. Wait… Actually…" Kyle began, trying to focus in on some lingering memory. "I remember a red headed woman with freckles. And there was a man… My father…? I'm not entirely sure," Kyle replied. "I remember power and mystery, but I don't remember what happened to him." Poopatine looked at them cautiously. This story they were telling perfectly mirrored the cover story he'd given Mufflin so long ago. He shivered slightly, but didn't move.

"Mein fazher vas gone vhen I vas around four," Sigmund declared simply, examining his nails. "Mozher soon followed, uf course."

"Our fathers are dead," Kyle said, rolling onto his side. "There _is_ no other explanation." Sigmund tensed and looked down, willing back the wave of despair he felt washing over him.

"No, no young ones. I believe your father is very much alive," Poopatine suddenly said. The two boys frowned curiously and looked back at him, their attention aroused once more.

"Do you now? What makes you think _that_?" Kyle asked sarcastically. And what made him use father in the singular? Not that he particularly cared, but still.

"Do you remember a funeral, a death?" Poopatine pressed.

"Mein fazher vas nevair zhere! Vhat else am I supposed to sink?" Sigmund demanded.

"Right! And mine _certainly_ never bothered searching if he were alive," Kyle stated.

"Or perhaps he couldn't find you," Poopatine offered. "Perhaps your fathers, each of them, still search the galaxy for you both," he added, tickling them playfully, hoping to snap them out of their melancholy stated.

The two burst into laughter. "Enough!" Sigmund insisted as he cackled.

"Father, you know I simply cannot take being tickled!" Kyle protested through giggles. Poopatine chuckled and drew back, looking affectionately at the two.

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The boys looked up at him in adoration. Whether they knew adoration was in their eyes or not was a mystery to Poopatine. Finally Kyle asked, referencing the janitor's statement, "Do you really think so? Do you really think our fathers are somewhere out there?"

"Well why not?" Poopatine questioned. "I, for one, would never have stopped searching for my missing children. Become discouraged, perhaps, but without a body how can a parent ever assume their child is gone?"

"If zey vere searching zey should have found us by now," Sigmund declared firmly, moment of happiness dissolving.

"Have you found your father, Sigmund?" Poopatine questioned.

"Jawohl. Right here," Sigmund answered. Poopatine started, shocked at the declaration. "Mein fazher iz dead to me. _You_ are mein fazher," the boy added.

"Our father is alive," Kyle added. "He's _you_, Janitor Poopatine."

Poopatine's lips slowly parted. They were serious. "Boys…" he began, touched, but he didn't know where to go from there. All at once the two were in his arms holding him tightly. Still in shock he held them back. Well, _this_ was unexpected. But was it, really? From the moment they'd all been sucked into this situation, was there any doubt it would come to this? No, he realized. There never _had_ been. Perhaps if he'd foreseen this, or rather, if he had _accepted_ it as being exactly what was to happen, he would never have agreed. Strange… That sounded like a lie to his _own_ ears.

No… he'd known from the start where this would lead. He nuzzled the two gently and kissed their heads. They lay back down. Soon enough they were asleep, and Poopatine left the room quietly. He had some fixing up to do in Kyle's bedroom. He didn't want to risk the duo sharing a room for any longer than was absolutely necessary. Even now he was slightly concerned that he would find them both dead when he woke up tomorrow. Likely having killed each other in their insane rivalry, he would bet. It wouldn't take long to get Kyle's room back to a livable state. He would have to get them up early tomorrow he realized, as he mentally ticked through a list. They had doctor's appointments.


	3. Blood Brothers

_**Fanboy And Chum Chum: A New Hope**_

(A/N: Here is the last thing you expected, or first, depending on whether you caught all the hints I was dropping throughout. I'm not sure how this plot twist will go over, but oh well. I guess that's why they call it fanfiction. Besides, it's sort of crucial for me to do this. It's an integral part in future stories in this series.)

Blood Brothers

Poopatine held the two boys apart desperately, grinning awkwardly at the patients in the waiting room who were staring in disdain at the battle raging. "Kyle, Sigmund, enough of this!" he ordered sharply.

"He _started_ it!" Kyle insisted.

"Vizard, I vill hit you vith a spell so powerful you vill regret ever being born!" Sigmund shouted.

"Bring it on you jerk!" Kyle shot.

"Gladly!" Sigmund bit.

"Enough!" Poopatine yelled. The two froze and looked up at him in shock. "One more word from either of you and you will be waiting in the Dump Star! They pouted but stopped, sulkily folding their arms.

There was blessed silence a long moment. Finally Poopatine noticed Kyle shifting uncomfortably. Kyle looked up at him and asked, "Is it really a good idea to be here?"

Sigmund opened his mouth to say something smart like, 'ah ha, you spoke, into ze Dump Star vith you,' but Poopatine warned, "Start a fight, you're out." Sigmund glared angrily at him but then turned back to the magazine he was reading. Satisfied Sigmund had been put in place, Poopatine turned to Kyle and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean after our last incident with Dr. Acula…" Kyle began. He trailed off. The rest was self-explanatory.

"I told you boys. He's on the clock and bound to ethics," Poopatine assured.

Sigmund scoffed and declared, "He vill drain us dry und throw our bodies into ze alley vay."

"Sigmund!" Poopatine shot as Kyle's eyes widened in horror.

"Vhat, he vill!" Sigmund insisted.

"Bloodworth-Thomason's," Acula's voice said, none too pleased. They looked up to see the frowning doctor whose eyes were glittering. "Come in, come in. I vant to take your blood." Kyle gasped in horror. "For a blood test," Acula added, holding up a small vial. Kyle nearly bolted, but he forced himself to follow Sigmund and Poopatine.

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Acula snapped his gloves and looked at them icily. "Get on vith it," Sigmund ordered.

"I vould love to, but I am bound by professional rules," Acula replied.

"Not what we meant!" Kyle exclaimed in alarm.

"Hush you, I'll go first," Poopatine said, shooting an annoyed look at the boy. Kyle swallowed and nodded. Poopatine sat in the chair and offered his arm boredly. He'd never bothered with checkups, _ever_. Until he'd become a father, that is. Now he really had no choice. He had dependents living under his authority and protection.

Acula hissed and raised the janitor's arm to his mouth. Poopatine started but didn't pull back. Dracula had his methods. Tasting of the blood, the vampire sighed in delight and pulled away. "Such a sensation. It is foreign, unique, yet familiar. If only I could place it," he muttered. "Perhaps a little more…" He opened his mouth to bite again.

"Doctor!" Poopatine sharply shot. Dracula started and grinned innocently, snapping out of it. Poopatine scowled and rose.

Sigmund, who wanted the test done with, went next, followed by Kyle who was almost panicking. Dracula finished up and said, "All healthy, nothing to worry about."

"You can tell that simply through blood?" Kyle asked.

"Vampire," Dracula stated.

"Yes, well, may I have a word with you, Dr. Acula," Poopatine more stated than asked, rising and taking the surprised vampire's arm. He dragged Acula into the hall and questioned, "Where can we speak privately?" Acula raised an eyebrow, but led the man to his office.

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"Now, vhat do you vant?" Acula asked as soon as they were in the office with the doors and windows shut. He could attack the man now, except the daylight wasn't his time of strength. He would stand no chance. Especially not if the man had improved since their last battle.

"I want a theory tested," Poopatine replied.

"Theory?" Acula asked. Poopatine was silent a long moment, looking back at the office door towards the room the boys were in. Acula's eyes lit up in realization and he coldly smirked. "You have a history you have been hiding, Janitor. Vun that could mean everything."

"Not hidden, exactly…" Poopatine began.

"Tell me everything," Dracula declared.

Poopatine looked up at the vampire. After a moment he stated, "The cover story I told Mufflin was not all a lie."

"Go on," Acula said.

Poopatine sighed deeply, looking down, then turned back to the doctor, saying, "I _was_ once married to a German woman with red hair and freckles. Her name was Brenda, and by her I had two sons… Both of whom were lost to me… One disappeared before her death and one after it. The first had been kidnapped, the second she hid away to protect when she sensed her life was nearing its end."

"The names of your sons were…?" Dracula asked.

Poopatine avoided the question, saying, "New events have come to light that have me questioning some… things."

"Vhat kind of things?" the vampire pressed.

Poopatine pursed his lips but then answered. "Things about the two children I have unofficially adopted and taken under my wing, Kyle and Sigmund… History and fate are finicky things. I just want answers to questions that have been unanswered for years." Acula's eyes began to glitter. He knew exactly where this was going.

"You vant to know if, by some unexpected twist of fate, they are the two children you lost so long ago," the vampire king deduced.

Poopatine pursed his lips then answered through gritted teeth, "Yes." Acula chuckled and leaned forward.

"Give me your arm," the count declared. Poopatine obeyed.

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Kyle and Sigmund waited impatiently. "What's taking so long?" Kyle demanded, now more irritated than frightened.

"Zey vill be back soon!" Sigmund shot viciously, having had to say this same line five times already.

Just then the door opened and in walked a very distracted Poopatine followed by a maniacally grinning Dr. Acula. "What took you so long?" Kyle demanded, standing.

Poopatine looked up at them. They were both angry. Somehow he knew this wasn't even a _fraction_ of what he would soon witness, though. He swallowed tightly. "Children, I told you your father was very much alive… There's something I need to add…" he began, voice strained and tired. They looked immediately cautious.

"_Vhat_ are you talking about?" Sigmund asked suspiciously.

"How on Earth could _you_ know something about them?" Kyle challenged. What _was_ the man, a super spy? A detective?

"Him," Poopatine corrected, and the two boys stiffened, eyes widening. Where was this going? Poopatine swallowed and sat in a chair across from them, looking down at the ground. They knew, then, that this was something very important, because the Janitor _never_ sat them both down like this unless it was to give them a stern talking to or to discuss an important arrangement he knew might not sit well with them. The man opened his mouth to speak but then shut it again.

Acula spoke up, on seeing Poopatine was struggling to think of something, saying, "First you must know that there are some things children are born vith that are passed through genetics and blood. There are other things they learn through surroundings, such as accents and methods of speech. Two tvins can be on opposite sides of the vorld, vun in China, vun in India. They may not even _be_ Chinese or Indian themselves; but vhen they transition from their native tongue to English, they vill possess those two different accents."

"Vhat does zis have to do vith anything?" Sigmund demanded. Poopatine looked up at them, eyes exhausted, and swallowed. Finally he put his hands comfortingly on their shoulders and quietly narrated the cover story he'd given Mufflin so long ago.

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The doctor's office had cleared out, patrons fleeing in terror and screaming. Objects were flying wildly around in the wake of the powers contained in the two preteen boys, one a wizard and one a sorcerer. Tears were spilling from their eyes, tears of denial and anger and hatred. Tears of betrayal and desperation and fear. "Nein!" Sigmund screamed furiously at the man. Acula and Poopatine were standing, gaping at the two. Before the sorcerer could stop himself he'd shot a blast at Poopatine and Acula. Acula dove to the side, getting beneath the cover of his desk. This reaction had _not_ been expected. Poopatine gasped and threw up a hand, catching Sigmund's fireball. The two preteens gaped in shock. Poopatine extinguished the flame and dropped into a defensive position. "Zis iz not happening! It iz impossible, nein!" Sigmund shouted.

"Lies, it's all lies! It _can't_ be true, it simply _can't_ be! No! We are _not_ brothers, we are _not_ your children!" Kyle screamed, shooting another blast at Poopatine. Easily the janitor caught it and sent it to the side.

"Oh for the love of darkness, it is _true_!" Acula shouted from beneath the desk. "What he has suspected for so long, I have confirmed! The same blood runs through all your veins! There _is_ no room for denial!" The count cried out in terror as the desk was blasted off of him, leaving him exposed. He hissed and turned into a bat, flying high above the chaos.

Sigmund leapt into the air with a furious cry and let off a barrage of attacks, all heading at Poopatine. The boy landed on his feet once more. "Nein, betrayer and manipulator, you use our vulnerability against us!" he shouted. Poopatine captured the blasts, holding his hands towards them. Gently he kneaded until they were one big ball. Easily he ripped the ball apart so the spells disintegrated. The two gaped at him in awe and shock. This couldn't be happening! When had the janitor gotten so _powerful_? Could this mysterious 'Janitor's Force' he claimed to use really defend against _their_ attacks?

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should have known, but I didn't. I wouldn't let myself believe it. I swear I never meant to hurt you two," Poopatine declared solemnly, shaking his head, eyes filled with sadness, regret, and pain.

"Why… how… _no_!" Kyle exclaimed.

"With each passing moment you make yourselves more my sons. It is unavoidable. You are mine," Poopatine declared flat out, eyes narrowed as the two boys raised attacks again.

"No…" they both said quietly at once, shaking their heads in denial.

"I'm through avoiding the truth now. I've done so for _too_ long. I'm sorry," Poopatine stated. They shot their attacks at him. He ducked under both. Acula hadn't moved from the roof beams. He didn't dare.

"Our fathers are dead!" Kyle yelled.

"No, boys. _I_ am your father," Poopatine replied.

"Impossible," Sigmund said.

"Search your feelings. You know it to be true," Poopatine declared.

"Nein!" Sigmund screamed, shaking his head in denial. He sobbed and fell to the ground weeping.

"No…" Kyle repeated weakly, falling to his knees and sobbing, dropping the spells. Poopatine watched them miserably. He didn't dare move towards the crying children. Perhaps this had come too soon. All they had known had been demolished in moments. All the secrets and questions they'd ever had about their pasts, answered just like that. It was too much for them, he knew, and he was regretting ever opening his mouth more and more each second. He felt a burning in his eyes and turned from them. He couldn't look anymore. He couldn't feel their hatred growing. He couldn't forgive _himself_ let alone hope _they_ would.


End file.
